Intricate filigree chased out with chisel and chimes,

Time-served and time-etched like

an illuminated manuscript.

No cistercian monk sworn to silence,

But a brash and brazier-ed metal basher,

Swearing and cursing like a costermonger…

How do such sweet works come from one so uncouth?

Even the roughest hands can meld beauty,

Even the darkest mind can form pretty thoughts…

And even the crass can gild a lily,

bye and bye,

bye and bye.

Copyright Dale Beck 2018.

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I am a writer of words and a righter of wrongs. I aim to change the world, one person at a time.

5 thoughts on “FILIGREE

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